More Male Malady Musing

How can it be that after only having tiny sips of water for almost 12 hours and then peeing a dozen times, or maybe more, that my bladder was full?

For when the good doctor got the scope in there, behold, it was, indeed, full.

He was able to see this firsthand once he had dilated me for the second time in three weeks.

After the previous cysto and dilation here, I had a most wonderful flow for about a week. Then it started to diminish, and by the end of the second week I was, frustratingly, back to dripping.

But that was just before the long weekend, so it eventuated that I had to endure another week. I had called the doctor on Friday, but they were gone until Tuesday, and I was finally seen on Thursday.

First, he moved my surgery from 4 weeks to 2. But that did not solve my problem of getting me through those two intervening weeks. Under much prodding from Sue, for which I am grateful, I secured another dilation for yesterday.

A cysto is one thing, and not a fun thing to be sure, but having a dilation with it can be a wee bit rough.

But anything is better than peeing every few minutes and still not voiding properly. By Wednesday night, it had been hurting to urinate, but I knew that there would be relief in the morning.

And relief there was . . . and on into this next morning.

The good doctor determined that it would be most beneficial to catheterize me for the next two weeks whilst I await surgery. And then, possibly, for a week afterward.

The catheter is not perfect, but it is comfy enough that I got close to 8 hours of sleep, which is a rather rare treat.

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I have been told by my significant other that I was looking rather wiped and spacey yesterday morning before the surgery and after the ordeal of the previous week. The day and night before had been particularly difficult.

Registering at Hospital Admitting

A selfies once gowned and awaiting my fate

 

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